I had a sinking uneasiness. It wasn’t necessarily about leaving her for D.C. It was about how often I left and stayed gone. I trusted her intentions, but I didn’t trust her ability to make wise decisions. She’d basically admitted Kevin had vengeful thoughts about her, and dismissed them as part of his artistic process.
I wondered if she’d been bitten by a shithouse rat. If she expected Darren to protect her, she was sorely out of her league. He was a mother hen. He’d tuck her into bed and feed her soup if she got sick, but if that guy started doing the revolting shit I saw in those drawings, Darren was as good as useless.
I didn’t feel much more useful.
Mostly because as soon as I hit the 101 and got too far away from her to turn back, I started planning the next time I’d see her. Nothing between visits occupied my mind. I already wanted to taste her again, feel her legs wrapped around my waist, and hear her sighs. I wanted to take action. Do something. Make some gesture that would bring her closer. Some sort of act that would bind her to me, even when I was away.
I felt greedy thinking about how much I missed her. I wanted more. More time. More sex. More laughing. I wondered if each of my sisters would like her. How each would react. Five out of seven would love her, and that thought warmed me. The warmth, instead of providing comfort, grew to a painful burn. I’d let my mind wander. I’d let something happen since last night when I kissed her eyelids. She was mine to protect and care for, a responsibility I relished.